


Comfort

by i_am_still_bb



Series: November 2020 Drabble Challenge [2]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_still_bb/pseuds/i_am_still_bb
Summary: Anders has had a bad day, but Mitchell is there to make everything better.
Relationships: Anders Johnson/John Mitchell
Series: November 2020 Drabble Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019770
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Day 17 of the November 2020 Drabble Challenge

Mitchell knows that something is wrong from the minute that he walks through the door. The television is on, but instead of being tuned to some American sitcom or reality show that involves hidden cameras and backstabbing it is a show with people talking about porkbutts and barbeque.

“Anders?” 

There is a small sound from the couch. 

Mitchell approaches and finds Anders sprawled on the couch, shoes, belt, tie, and jacket abandoned on the floor, collar unbuttoned and hair mussed. Draped over him from toe to collarbone is a red and white afghan. 

“Hey.” Mitchell reaches down and slides a hand just inside the open buttons of Anders’ shirt, feeling for a fever. “Are you okay?” But he already knows that answer. The blanket told him all that he needed to know.

Anders shakes his head. His eyes are glued on the television where there is now a discussion about using lard for making biscuits. 

“I’ll be right back,” Mitchell promises.

Anders nods, but does not move.

In the bedroom he changes out of his scrubs and quickly showers, as he always does after work, no sense in bringing germs from the hospital home. Not taking time to dry his hair—honestly he never does, but he always has a reason why—he stuffs the scrubs into the hamper and returns to the living room where he finds Anders in the same position.

“Can I sit with you?”

Anders nods and shifts just enough so that Mitchell can sit on the couch. Once seated Anders puts his head in Mitchell’s lap.

Mitchell settles in. He runs his fingers through Anders’ hair and lightly scratches his scalp. 

Anders pushes into the touch, uncurling his body to do so.

Mitchell bites his tongue. He wants to ask what happened, but right now Anders needs him and answers can wait until later. 

Anders only digs this afghan out of the linen closet when he is feeling helpless, not something that happens all that often. The last time that it had happened was when he had a large fight with Mike over something that Mitchell cannot even remember (he is willing to bet money that Anders does not remember the cause of the fight either). It was something that Anders would normally shake off, but that time it had seemed to sink into his skin, to gnaw at his thoughts until he managed to escape it. Before Mitchell Anders had found that release in a bottle of alcohol and mindless, anonymous sex. 

Mitchell keeps massaging Anders’ scalp. His other hand rests on Anders’ neck where he can feel the thrum of Anders’ heartbeat—steady and slow.

When the episode ends Mitchell asks, “Do you want to go to bed?”

Anders does not respond.

“We can stay here,” Mitchell assures him and starts to kick his feet up to put them on the coffee table.

“No,” Anders’ voice is rough and cracked, like he had been screaming or crying before Mitchell got home.

It tugs at Mitchell’s heart and he reaches out and takes Anders’ hand, fingers resting on his pulsepoint. “We really don’t have to move. I was actually learning something about how to cook pork bellies.”

There is a small smile.

“No,” Anders repeats, more confidently now, “Let’s go to bed.” He slowly stands and arranges the afghan around his shoulders before reaching out a hand for Mitchell.

Mitchell takes it and allows himself to be led into the bedroom with its low, filtered light and cool tones, which always make it feel calming.

Anders flops onto the bed, still wrapped in the afghan.

Mitchell climbs onto the bed next to him and runs a hand up and down Anders’ back.

“That’s nice,” Anders mumbles from within the depths of his blanket.

“Anything for you,” Mitchell says softly. He keeps rubbing Anders’ back. He scoots closer and presses a kiss to Anders' blanket-clad shoulder.

Anders peeks out from beneath the blanket, a pleading look in his eyes. Mitchell has learned that Ander’s can never really ask for it, not in so many words. 

Mitchell props himself up on an elbow and leans down to kiss Anders gently. 

Anders opens his mouth, inviting Mitchell to deepen the kiss.

Mitchell presses closer, but keeps the kiss gentle and searching.

Anders sighs into it. He shifts, breaking the kiss, and tries to unwrap the afghan.

“Let me,” Mitchell breathes and kisses down Anders’ neck.

Anders relaxes into the bed and pillows and allows Mitchell to tug at the afghan.

“You’re beautiful.” Mitchell presses a kiss to Anders’ exposed collarbone.

Anders whines, but there is a protesting edge to it.

Mitchell unbuttons Anders’ dress shirt. “You are.” He runs his nose over Anders’ exposed skin, the hair tickling his nose.

Anders winds his hands into Mitchell’s damp hair. The small groan on his exhaled breath encourages Mitchell. 

He pushes the shirt down Anders’ arms, helping him free of the restraining cuffs and stiff fabric. Mitchell presses open mouthed kisses to Anders stomach. “You do such a great job taking care of me, let me take care of you.”

Anders’ voice is shaky, “John…”

“It’s alright, baby.” 

Anders’ breath hitches for a moment like he is about to sob. 

“Hey,” Mitchell rubs small circles into Anders’ chest. He rests his chin on the softness of Anders’ stomach. “Hey. It’s okay. Here,” Mitchell pulls away and reaches for the edges of the afghan to tuck them around Anders.

Anders opens his eyes, which Mitchell now sees are puffy and a bit bloodshot. “Please, no.”

“You got it.”

They kiss again, soft, slow, and deep, fingers gentle and searching, but never pressing. When Mitchell starts to work his way back down Anders’ torso he tucks a bit of the afghan next to Anders face where Anders nuzzles into it.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mitchell murmurs. He lovingly kisses each freckle he finds as he travels down Anders’ chest past his collarbones, his nipples, the soft dip of his waist, his belly button and the soft trail of hair that begins there, his hip bones, to the crisp waistband of his slacks. 

Mitchell runs his hands up and down Anders’ thighs. “Can I take these off?” He asks.

Anders’ nods. His face still pressed to the afghan.

“Thank you.” Mitchell kisses the soft skin where Anders’ skin disappears into the pants. Anders’ socks, slacks, and black briefs join his dress shirt on the floor.

Mitchell sits back on his heels and surveys Anders’ body spread out before him; Anders' chest is heaving and his cock lies heavily against his stomach. “Did you know that you’re perfect?” He says casually and trails his fingers up Anders’ leg starting at the inside of Anders’ right ankle and slowly, lightly moving upwards to the apex of his thighs.

Anders shakes his head, eyes closed. “No. I’m not,” he whispers.

“Of course you are,” Mitchell says quietly, but his eyes burn fiercely. He _wants_ to hurt whoever made Anders feel this way, but now, right now, Anders needs him. 

“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived a long time.” 

Mitchell scoots down the bed. Drawing Anders’ legs up he kisses the inside of Anders’ knee. 

“Every part of you is fearfully and wonderfully made.” This kiss is higher up on Anders’ thigh.

Anders’ breath catches. “Are you quoting Scripture at me when you’re about to suck my cock?” Anders asks incredulously.

Mitchell smiles. He nips the spot that he had just kissed. “Maybe,” he teases. He knows that Anders will be okay; he may need some love and some time, but he will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> (When I started posting these to Ao3 I was torn about whether or not I should post each drabble as an individual work as part of a series or if I should post each drabble as a chapter of a single work. I spent probably too much time thinking about it. I decided on the later, but now I think that I should have done the former... so here it is... I don't know if I'll repost the other drabbles because I don't want to lose the comments and for people to lose the work if they've bookmarked it. Opinions or advice on this are greatly appreciated.)


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